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"So, your proposal is that we immediately head south, charge straight to Riverrun, and directly wipe out the five thousand stationed on the northern bank of the Tumblestone River? Is that what you're suggesting, my good Ser?"
The setting was the Northern army's encampment near Raventree Hall. It was there that Clay awaited the return of a scouting party he had sent southward.
According to Ser Brynden's assessment, Riverrun could still hold out for some time, but not for too long.
Moreover, the continued captivity of Edmure Tully remained a constant threat. Day after day, he was paraded beneath the castle walls, and no one could say with certainty that Lord Hoster Tully, old and ailing, might not one day awaken with his heart stirred by love for his son, and open the gates in a moment of heartbreak and weakness.
If such a tragedy were to occur, it would mark the end. Should Riverrun fall, the Riverlands would be left leaderless and vulnerable. A surrender by House Tully would not only break the morale of its people but would also place the Northern armies still fighting in the Riverlands in a precarious and powerless position.
Based on Ser Brynden's description of the current situation at Riverrun, it was indeed as he had said. Due to the irresistible constraints of the terrain, the Lannister forces had been forced to divide into three separate camps, positioned outside the three walls of Riverrun.
Two large rivers and a water-filled moat surrounded the castle. From any angle, the three Lannister camps were cut off from one another and unable to reinforce each other in time.
Therefore, Ser Brynden's suggestion, focused on relieving the siege, was to take full advantage of their cavalry, and strike suddenly by night. A swift and unexpected attack on the northern camp could wipe out or scatter the five thousand Lannister troops stationed there.
If they could eliminate this largest contingent, the other two smaller camps would pose far less of a threat.
Inside the command tent, all the Northern nobles who had followed Clay's cavalry south were present. After listening to Ser Brynden's proposal, most of them revealed expressions of approval.
"Indeed, the good ser's plan is sound. We Northerners are worth ten men in battle. With over five thousand cavalry in our ranks, dealing with this scruffy band of Lannister lions should be a simple task."
The speaker was Lord Glover. His tone carried a spark of excitement. He jabbed a stick toward the northern bank of Riverrun on the map as he went on:
"These Lannisters, in order to maintain their siege, must have set up their camps in an offensive formation. All of their supplies—grain, baggage trains, even horses—must be kept well away from the battlefield, which is to say, even farther north."
"In other words, their weakest and yet most vital assets are practically right under our noses. Once we deploy our troops, there is no reason we should not achieve victory."
His argument earned many nods from the assembled Northern nobles. Several tapped the table lightly in agreement, then all turned their eyes to Clay, their commander. As long as he gave the order, they would return to camp immediately to prepare their forces.
Clay understood that both Lord Glover and Ser Brynden were thinking from the standpoint of winning the battle and relieving Riverrun. From a purely tactical perspective, the plan was undoubtedly reasonable.
Twelve thousand was a difficult number to swallow, but five thousand cavalry against five thousand foot soldiers was a near-certain victory. The issue, however, was that this was not just a battle. This was war, and war was the continuation of politics by other means.
If only all matters in the world were so simple.
Clay gathered his thoughts, then raised his head to look at the hopeful faces before him. He slowly shook his head and calmly voiced his opinion:
"My lords, I agree with your assessment. But allow me to pose a question. Where is Ser Edmure Tully?"
"..."
A brief silence followed.
The nobles looked at one another in confusion, uncertain of what Clay was getting at.
"We haven't been able to find where Edmure is being held," Ser Brynden said, shaking his head wearily. His voice carried the weight of disappointment. Edmure was his kin, and Ser Brynden was a man who held family bonds in the highest regard. Though he was deeply frustrated with Edmure's failures, his concern for his nephew had never waned.
"There it is," Clay murmured. "Ser, let us assume that Edmure Tully is imprisoned within one of the two southern camps. Then even if we annihilate the five thousand men stationed on the northern bank, what would it truly accomplish in the greater scheme of this war?"
He fixed his gaze on Ser Brynden as he continued:
"Do you recall what I said to you back at Seagard? We are participating in an exceptionally dangerous gamble. Our opponent, House Lannister, has far more gold dragons than we do in their coffers. And beyond that, they hold a very important bargaining chip, one named Edmure Tully."
"Ser, if we want to win this gamble, then besides clawing out every last gold dragon from their pockets, should we not also seize hold of this vital bargaining chip?"
Clay's words brought a sudden hush over the once-animated war council. The Northern lords exchanged glances, unable to find fault with what he had said.
"But… we don't know where Edmure is," the old knight said helplessly, his expression grim. He had no rebuttal to offer.
Clay had no time for soothing words. Instead, he pressed on.
"If we cannot retrieve Edmure for the time being, that is fine. Then perhaps we should consider stealing another chip from the Lannisters. One called Jaime Lannister. That way, the playing field is even."
He pressed his finger firmly against the map where Riverrun was marked, his voice carrying the weight of certainty and power:
"For this battle, let us put aside the matter of lifting the siege. Our true objective must be to capture the Kingslayer—Jaime Lannister—Lord Tywin's beloved heir."
"If we succeed in seizing him, then unless Lord Tywin finds Lord Eddard Stark, the war between us and the Lannisters will shift entirely in our favor."
"To speak plainly, Ser, the value of one Kingslayer is likely far higher than that of your nephew, Edmure. I trust you understand my meaning."
Ser Brynden's face showed inner conflict. Yet he knew that Commander Clay Manderly's reasoning was sound. After two consecutive defeats, the Riverlands were already all but drained of fighting power. In truth, even two Edmures might not be worth one Jaime Lannister. As harsh as that sounded, it was nonetheless the truth.
After a long silence, Lord Severn finally broke the tension.
"You speak with wisdom, Lord Clay. You are our commander, and we stand ready to follow your lead. Tell me, then—what is your judgment?"
Clearly, Clay's words had won them all over. In this battle at Riverrun, if they failed to capture Jaime Lannister, then it would be as good as a loss—no matter if they wiped out the more than five thousand men on the northern bank, it would make no difference.
Given how things stood, Clay realized that his original "wolf-pack" tactic could no longer be used. But that no longer mattered—he had another plan ready.
"Very well," he said, his tone calm yet commanding. "I will now share my thoughts. Since our goal is to capture the Kingslayer, then our appetite must grow larger. All twelve thousand of them—I want every single one."
He didn't bother to look at the astonished expressions on the faces of the assembled nobles. Without any hesitation, he continued:
"The first step. Ser Brynden, you will take three hundred men, dress them in the banners and armor of the Riverlands lords, and ride once again toward the area near Riverrun. Begin by eliminating their scouts. Kill as many as you can."
"Your task is to lure the Kingslayer into committing his full cavalry force. The more fiercely you strike, the more horsemen he will send. The most important thing is to make him feel that unless he wipes you out, he cannot feel safe."
The old knight had already begun to follow Clay's line of thought. Hearing this request, he nodded, fully understanding what was required of him.
"Second," Clay continued, "I will lead you, my lords, forward to a predetermined battlefield between Raventree Hall and Riverrun, where we will lie in wait to ambush the Lannister cavalry."
"That part depends on you, my lords. You must ensure that not a single one of those Lannister curs makes it back to Riverrun to report what happened."
In response to Clay's words came a thunderous sound—fists pounding against breastplates, a solemn and powerful pledge of loyalty.
Clay took a deep breath and revealed the third step of his plan.
"Third. Once we annihilate the Lannister cavalry, they will be stripped of nearly all mobility. At that point, Lord Glover, I want you to lead one thousand riders in a swift advance southwest, striking directly toward the stronghold of the Golden Tooth."
The order left many in the room uncertain. At last, someone asked the question lingering in everyone's mind.
"Lord Clay, what is the purpose of going to the Golden Tooth? Lord Glover cannot possibly capture it with only one thousand men."
Clay raised his hand slightly, gesturing for calm.
"The four thousand men we have remaining will, after eliminating the Lannister cavalry, attack their northern and southwestern camps. Before they have time to react, we will tear them into pieces."
"Then… what about the four thousand in the southeast?" Ser Brynden asked. He had already begun to understand what Clay intended, but he asked anyway, seeking confirmation.
"Ser, once we've destroyed their two camps, what do you think the remaining four thousand men will do?"
"They'll retreat," Ser Brynden replied.
"And where will they retreat to?"
The knight's eyes lit up as everything became clear. As he thought, this commander had never intended to let a single Lannister return to the Westerlands alive.
At that moment, Lord Glover—who had been ordered to lead the attack—also realized the plan. He blurted out:
"The Golden Tooth, southwest!"
"Exactly," Clay said, knocking his knuckles on the table for emphasis.
"Those four thousand defeated, frightened stragglers will have only one thought—to flee as swiftly as they can back to the Golden Tooth. And you, Lord Glover, will be waiting for them with lances, blades, and steel in hand, ready to send these Lannisters to their end and let them plead their case before the gods."
With that, Clay's full plan was finally unveiled. It was a deathtrap meticulously woven for the entire Lannister force of twelve thousand. Now, he was preparing to wrap it tightly around them.
From the very beginning, this entire operation had been based on the five thousand high-mobility cavalry under Clay's command. The core of the strategy was the time difference between cavalry and infantry.
Aside from the first step of baiting the enemy, the remaining two steps all hinged on one fact—cavalry outruns infantry. Once Clay destroyed all of the Lannisters' mobile units, the rest of their foot soldiers would be nothing more than prey, hunted down one by one during their panicked escape.
When Clay finished speaking, the tent fell into a brief silence. Then, it erupted with thunderous cheers. The seated nobles pounded the tables, expressing their enthusiastic approval.
Even the slowest among them understood now. This remarkably young commander had already planned everything in his mind, down to the finest detail.
All that was left for them was to follow behind him and carry out his will.
"Lord Clay, I shall begin preparations immediately. Please tell me the location of the ambush," said Ser Brynden, standing up with a jolt. His face was filled with emotion. Of all those present, he was likely the most anxious, for the current lord of Riverrun was his elder brother.
As for the site of the ambush, Clay had made a different choice from Robb Stark.
The Whispering Wood!
Located west of Fairmarket, along the southern bank of the Blue Fork, a tributary of the Trident, the Whispering Wood lay to the north of their current position at Raventree Hall.
On the way here, they had passed through the Whispering Wood. Without a doubt, it was a place ideally suited for an ambush. Near the forest was a narrow river valley, and because its northern exit was so constricted, the terrain naturally formed a semi-enclosed space—perfect for laying a trap.
However, there was one glaring issue. The location was far too distant from the battlefield at Riverrun, with a gap of more than a hundred miles (160 kilometers) separating them.
To put that into perspective, even a mounted force would need to march at full speed, without rest, for two entire days to reach it—and that was assuming they had the advantage of crossing open plains.
But this was the Riverlands, where streams crisscrossed the land like a web, and thick forests, treacherous swamps, and flowing rivers all stood in the way, slowing the advance of any cavalry.
In other words, if Jaime Lannister were to pursue the bait from Riverrun to the Whispering Wood valley, it would take him no less than three to four days.
What kind of hatred or vengeance would justify that kind of pursuit? A distance that far could take them all the way to the Twins.
And what if, while Clay still waited in the Whispering Wood, hoping for Jaime Lannister to arrive, the Kingslayer suddenly decided that he had chased far enough and turned back? What then?
They could not expect the cavalry used as bait, to return and seduce Jaime into giving chase again. Clay Manderly was not Cersei Lannister—he was hardly the kind of person who could keep the Kingslayer's attention so easily.
Therefore, to be safe, Clay had chosen to advance his forces out from Raventree Hall and designate a different battlefield, this one located ten miles south of the town. The locals of the Riverlands had given the valley a rather crude name, one referencing a "certain part" of the female body.
Clay decided it needed a new name. He dubbed it "Maiden's Vale." Otherwise, anyone overhearing their discussions might misunderstand—those who knew would recognize it as a tactical conversation, but to others, it might sound like a bunch of lecherous nobles indulging in indecent talk.
Clay had personally led a team to scout the location. How should one describe it? The moment he entered, he was reminded of the place just north of the Twins where his family's merchant convoy had once been ambushed—only this time, the terrain was significantly larger.
"This is the place," Clay said with determination, pointing to a precise location on the map. "Ser Brynden, once you have lured the Lannister cavalry, maintain a steady pace. Do everything you can to pass through here by dusk or during the night."
Ser Brynden glanced at the marked location, paused to consider the strategy, and his eyes lit up with realization. He understood exactly what Clay intended.
There were no flares or signal lights in these times. If he could lead the Lannister cavalry on a day-long chase and guide them into that valley when both men and horses were exhausted, then Clay's forces could strike suddenly.
In the pitch-black night, fear would multiply within the Lannister ranks. Clay knew he only had five thousand troops. Every life saved on their side mattered dearly. As for the Lannister army, the more of them that died, the better.
"My lords," Clay said solemnly, "this will be our first true battle against the Kingslayer. Let us show these southerners the might of the North."
He proceeded to assign precise roles to each of the gathered nobles. The plan was clear—hold the high ground, remain hidden, and wait until the enemy was most vulnerable before launching a devastating ambush under the cover of darkness.
Out of the five thousand cavalry, one thousand would block the valley's exit, ensuring no escape. The remaining four thousand would descend like shadows in the night to carry out a flawless massacre.
"Let House Lannister understand," Clay said, his voice low and firm, "that their winter has arrived..."
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[Chapter End's]
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